


Haunted when the minutes drag

by Stormwytch



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Dany isn't ressurected, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormwytch/pseuds/Stormwytch
Summary: Jon's thinks about Daenerys every day and what could have been...





	Haunted when the minutes drag

_The word that would_  
_Best describe this feeling would be, 'haunted'_  
_I touch the clothes you left behind_  
_That still retain your shape and lines, still haunted_  
  
_I trace the outline of your eyes_  
_Blue in the mirror, hypnotized and haunted_  
_I find a solitary hair gone_  
_And still I reminisce, I'm haunted_  
  
_Haunted (when the minutes drag)_

_Love and rockets_

Six moon turns have passed, but still he sees her every night, she haunts his dreams. She is the last thing he sees when he closes his eyes, huddled under the furs in his tent. She is the first thing he sees beneath his closed eyelids when he awakens. Sometimes, he sees silver ribbons of hair, cascading over the pillows after the first night they spent together on the boat sailing north. She is gazing at him, crystal blue eyes still filled with sleep, shining with love that was only for him. Other times, she is wanton, seductive, holding his gaze, from beneath heavy lids, biting her lip as she slips the dress off her shoulders to stand bare before him.  When she loves him, her flame burns white hot, scorching him, incinerating him until only ashes remain then like the phoenix, he is reborn from the ashes anew. 

Most of the time though, she is staring at him in confusion, sad eyes reflect shock and heartbreak as he betrays her, even as he's tasting her plump lips. He aims true, not wanting her to suffer, the blade slices through her leather dress like butter to bury itself into her heart. Her eyes are wide, silently asking why?  Her lips move but she makes no sound.Time slows down, grinds to a halt and it seems as though eons go past before she collapses in his arms. Her eyelids flutter rapidly, never once leaving his face as the thin trickle of scarlet leaves her mouth and nose. He recalls the moment the light fades from her eyes - eyes like sparkling sapphires that could burn away the cold night air, now dull as her fire is extinguished. He can barely see her through the tears as he closes those eyes forever. Her exquisite body, the one he has explored with fingers and tongue till she came undone beneath him, now lies limp in his arms. He lowers her down on the ground, cradling her and he wishes he could take it back. She has become so engrained in his soul, that part of him has died with her.

He hears her name carried on the wind _Dany..._ He hears other names: cruel, mocking: _oathbreaker_ , they taunt. _Queenslayer, kinslayer._ He knows he deserves them.

He wishes he could turn back the clock, never reveal his true identity to anyone, go on pretending. She tells him how much she loves him and begs him keep the secret of his parentage, afraid it will destroy them and she turns out to be right. His sister swears a sacred oath and breaks it moments later. Her adviser plots to kill her, tries to poison her. He recalls the day at Dragonstone, as she mourns the death of her dearest friend, so soon after losing another child, her oldest friend and many of her loyal soldiers. She has given so much, sacrificed so much for him, to fight in his war and receive little thanks and no respect for it. Even after giving up so much to save the stubborn northerners, she is still met with suspicion. He realises that they all have their part to play in the destruction that follows. He is ashamed now that he cannot offer her comfort at her lowest point, when her mind is such a fragile, broken thing. 

He remembers another girl, once. Kissed by fire she was and she died in his arms also. Dany is kissed by moonlight. She is a force of nature, a lightening storm that threatens to wreck ships and send sailors to their doom. She is a whirlwind, ready to whip you off your feet and deposit you wherever she sees fit. She is fire made flesh and her lover's caress will leave your bones blackened and charred. She is part of him, she has crawled under his skin and lodged there. He knows she will never leave.

Tormund wakes him. "You've been dreaming about the little dragon queen, again, haven't you?" Its a common occurrence. He starts to camp apart from the others, with only Ghost for company so he doesn't disturb them with his nightmares. The white pelt of the wolf, reminds him of her fur coat that she wears when she is in the north. She wears it that day at the waterfall, when everything is perfect: the last perfect moment between them. 

"We could stay here for a thousand years," she says. "No-one would find us." he wishes they could. 

More time has passed now. He doesn't know how long. the minutes drag sometimes. Tormund tries to persuade him to take a wilding woman, but he knows he will never love again. One day he walks out beyond the Frostfangs and into the Land of Always Winter. The cold bites at his face. His hair is long and untamed now. His beard thick and unruly. He does not care about his appearance. He does not care about very much, save his wolf. He knows he will never see his family again and he isn't sure that he wants to. He pushes further north, leaving the others behind. He doesn't have any destination in mind, he just keeps walking.

Eventually, fatigue overcomes him, and he feels the chill, even through his cloak. he sits down, leaning against a rock , sleepy now, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, she is there waiting for him, a vison of loveliness, her flame burns so bright, it illuminates every bit of him. She is dressed in a pristine, white fur coat, blue eyes gazing at him with intensity as she holds out her arms. He doesn't question it, he just goes to her, embraces her. Her lips clash against his once more, ice melting into the fire. There is a waterfall behind them, he hasn't noticed it before.

"Let us stay here for a thousand years." and this time, he agrees.

It is Ghost who finds him first. The wolf sniffs him and howls mournfully. He is ice cold to the touch, but his eyes are staring at something in the distance and a smile is permanently fixed on his face. Tormund closes the brown eyes and pats the wolf who is regarding him with a sad gaze. "He's at peace now, boy!"

"I hope you have found your Dragon Queen, My Little Crow."

Legend has it that there is a waterfall, somewhere north of Winterfell, where at certain times of the day, people have seen the spirits of two lovers dancing, laughing and loving, together, always.


End file.
